The Chill in the Trees
by IrishCailin16
Summary: "They come in the rain. About the murder that was never solved." Modern AU, rating may change


**AN: It's been a very, very long time since I've published any fanfiction here; much longer than I'd care to admit. I've started a lot of stories, but this is the first one that has finally made it through. Reviews are very much appreciated! **

_**Chapter One**_

They come in the rain.

Prim catches sight of them from the front upstairs window, pausing, hair straightener in hand. For a moment she's glad her sister is out; Katniss hates religious zealots and wastes no time slamming the door in their faces before they can complete a sentence.

"The Gospel according to –"

SLAM!

Prim has never found out just which Gospel is behind the visits. But these two men walking up the garden path – the younger stops to close the gate behind him – look a little too formally attired for missionaries. Dark suits, black shoes, black coats with collars turned up against the wind – their look is more funereal than ministerial. On an earthly mission then, not a spiritual one.

Prim clicks off the straightener and sets it down on the windowsill, before jogging out of the room and down the stairs.

"Mom? Mom, there are two men at the door."

Her mother looks up from the chopping board, strands of coriander and chives sticking to her long fingers. _Chives – high in Vitamin C, potassium and folic acid. Promote good digestion, help prevent colds and lower blood cholesterol_, Prim chants in her head. She's studied her mother's herb book from the moment she learned to read, a fact that will hopefully stand to her when she gets to college.

"What men? I didn't hear the door."

As if by divine inspiration, the strangers choose that moment to ring the doorbell. Her mother briskly wipes her hands on a tea towel and hurries out into the hallway. Prim follows, curious as to what would bring two men out in such awful weather.

The bell chimes a second time as they reach the door, and her mother pulls on the latch, springing out of the way as a gust of wind drives the door forward, slamming it against the opposite wall. Prim tugs on the ends of her cardigan, wrapping it tighter around her body, as she peers around her mother's slight frame.

The older man stands in front, hands buried deep in his coat pockets, rainwater dripping from his dark brown hair. Prim knows her face must be comical the moment he addresses her mother:

"Hello Sage. It's been a long time."

_Sage?_ Very few people call her that, aside from close friends and acquaintances, which this man certainly is not. Unless her mother has a secret life, which is so impossible that she almost laughs out loud. She stares at the back of her mother's head, silently willing her to explain (she doesn't want to be rude and ask outright), but Sage doesn't say a word. The muscles in her neck are tense, sticking out from under her translucent skin. The older man squeezes his lips together, puffing them out like a fish's as he stares at the doorframe.

"You mind if we come in?"

Sage still doesn't speak, but she does step out of the way. The older man stamps his feet on the welcome mat before moving inside, finally catching sight of Prim. To her surprise, his eyes seem to soften and the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

"Well, look at you, kiddo. You sure grew up fast."

As if this encounter wasn't strange enough. Prim is certain she's never met this man before, but he's speaking as though she has. Was he one of her father's friends? That seems plausible; he looks to be about the same age as her mother. But if they had been friends, why hasn't she seen him in any old photographs? Why wasn't he around when her mother fell apart? With this in mind, she crosses her arms firmly over her chest and sets her jaw.

"I'd say I grew at a regular pace for someone my age."

A deep, baritone laugh draws her attention back to the front door, where the second man is now shrugging off his wet coat and draping it over his arm. He's shorter and much younger than his companion, somewhere in his mid to late twenties judging by the lack of lines on his face. Prim fixes him with her best "Katniss stare" and he holds up a hand in surrender.

"I apologise, miss. It's just that -"

"Why are you here?"

Ah, so her mother has finally found her voice. Sage is still standing by the open door, tendrils of hair coming loose from its bun and whipping around her face as the gale ploughs through the house. Prim hurries forward and manages to shut the front door, aided by the younger man. Thank goodness the Hawthornes built that shed for Lady the previous year – she'd catch her death in this weather.

"I –"The older man pauses and clears his throat. "We have something to discuss with you."

"About what?"

There is silence for a moment, before the man answers, his voice gentle, almost_ sad_.

"You know what about."

Sage's chin wobbles, a tell-tale sign of serious distress. Prim's curiosity is now the last thing on her mind – she wants these men gone from her house, taking whatever bad news or bad memories they have with them.

"This is my partner," the man says, gesturing to the younger, "D.S. Mellark."

D.S.? They're policemen? Sage barely glances at the younger man, but Prim turns for a good long stare. He couldn't be a Detective Sergeant; he's barely older than Katniss.

"Living room still the same way?" Without waiting for an answer, the older man turns and strides down the hallway, through the kitchen door. Sage trails after him, chin still quivering.

"His name is Detective Inspector Haymitch Abernathy," says a voice in her ear. Prim stiffens. She recognises the name, and in a true epiphany moment it all becomes clear. She looks into the sergeants blue eyes – he's barely two inches taller than her so she only has to tilt her chin slightly. Good job she's not wearing high heels or he might feel emasculated, if he's one of _those_ guys.

"Why are you here?" she asks, echoing her mother. She doesn't know why either of them bothered asking; they already know the answer. The sergeant seems to know this too, but he tells her anyway.

"We're here about your father's murder."

The murder that was never solved.


End file.
